Gloom, despair and agony on me! There’s absolutely nothing more miserable than freakishly cold weather, unless it’s freakishly cold weather when you have a cold. I am very afraid that I am sick. All of the symptoms are pointing that direction. Of course, I can still stand up and breathe (kinda), so I’m at work (kinda). You know how when you have a really bad cold, you feel like your head is all wrapped up in cotton? That would be me. I feel so icky.
But I must persevere. So I went to lunch with my ever-loving and patient husband who has to be nice to me since I could die at any moment. We went to check out Newk’s, the latest venture from the founders of McAlister’s. The menu is pretty simple: soups, salads, sandwiches and pizzas. There is definitely some local flavor here, though: a white BBQ sauce grilled chicken breast sandwich and “Tippah County” caviar (black-eyed pea salad???) sound intriguing to say the least. Maybe I’ll live long enough to go back and try them.
Today, I needed soup, that warm and nourishing nectar that cuts through all the funkiness that is me. One of the three soup choices today was tomato basil. Mmmm. That sounded like it would do the trick. I chose a cup of that with half of the pesto chicken sandwich. Papa Squirrel went for the black & bleu salad. When our meals arrived at the table, we learned a valuable lesson: Newk’s believes in generous portions. Papa’s salad looked to be the equivalent of an entire head of lettuce, and my cup of soup would have fed all three of us at home.
But was it good? There’s where a cold shows its true evilness to humanity. It looked really good, but only the soup managed to penetrate the fog and get even a remote twitch from my taste buds. Papa said the salad was good. He gave me a bite. It looked like good salad. It definitely felt like salad in my mouth. I think it may have been really good. Maybe. I tried my sandwich. Warm bread, not too tough with melted feta and roasted red and yellow bell peppers. I think I liked it. Really.
There were also some delicious looking brownies and homemade cake. But what would have been the point? I will let that cake be my motivation to survive this dread disease. Or I’ll just take some more Nyquil and go back to sleep.
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